


a broken promised land

by the_ragnarok



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Caretaking, Gags, Handcuffs, M/M, Non-Sexual Kink, Open Relationships, Post-Apocalypse, Relationship Negotiation, fanon-typical eyes, post 160, vanilla sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:20:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22699297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: A statement giver is into Martin. Jon encourages him to enjoy himself.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Lee Kipple
Comments: 11
Kudos: 233





	a broken promised land

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to mx_carter for beta!!

The campfire crackles and burns. Martin gave his own spot to a mother with a young child, and now he's huddled close to Jon for both warmth and comfort. Jon leans his head on Martin's chest, and for a moment Martin can almost forget that the world has ended. 

Then Jon goes as tense as a violin string. Martin doesn't curse, too tired to waste breath. "Danger?" he asks Jon. 

Jon shakes his head, eyes intent on a man on the outer edges of the campfire circle. The man has wispy blond hair getting in his eyes, probably used to be slender and is now underfed. Jon is trembling next to Martin in what Martin takes a moment to recognize as excitement. 

"Oh, dear," Martin says, and casts about for somewhere else to go. Their sleeping bags are to the back and it's a little early yet, but nobody will question it if they turn in early. 

Too late. The man has noticed them, and he's heading their way. "Behave," Martin whispers to Jon. He doesn't expect to be listened to. 

"Is there a problem?" the man says. His voice is soft, pleasant, with a strained edge. They're all on their last nerve, here and now. Common courtesy is all that's keeping this little group of survivors from going at one another's throat. The man's eyes flicker to the gag stopping Jon's mouth, but he doesn't ask. 

Martin lets out a breath. "Sorry. Jon here has spotted you have a bit of, ah, how shall I say this. You know all that?" Martin indicates the sky gone wrong. None of them look up. "You've experienced something like that. You know, from before. He won't give you trouble about it." They've both gone to some effort to make sure that would be the case.

If Martin is uncomfortably aware of how prominent Jon's ribs are, stark even through the woollen jumper he has on, that's their problem and none of this person's concern. 

To Martin's surprise, the man sits down beside them. "I'm Lee." He offers his hand first to Jon, without flinching, then to Martin, who hastens to introduce himself in turn. Lee looks at Jon when he asks, voice steady, "What do you want with what's happened to me?"

Jon can't very well answer, so Martin says, "He wants you to tell him. We don't expect that, of course!" The following "But." escapes from his lips before he can think better of it. 

"But?"

Martin swallows. "It would help," he admits. "Those kinds of stories, statements - they're... nourishing to him." Jon hasn't fed in a while, but that's hardly Lee's problem to worry about. "But if you do, you might have, um. Nightmares about whatever happened. Worse than you do now, if you do." 

Lee laughs mirthlessly. "Doubt there's much worse for them to get."

Jon and Martin trade a look. "They can," Martin says. "Trust me." 

Lee keeps his eyes on Jon. "You're the one who told us to avoid that house yesterday. The one with," he shudders, "those twisted things."

Jon nods, looking wary.

"All right," Lee says. "I'll tell you what I can. I don't remember much, honestly."

Jon takes off the gag. When he speaks, his voice is laced with static. "That will not be a problem." 

~

In the before times, Martin used to give Jon privacy while he recorded statements, but look how that turned out. So Martin is sat next to both of them as Lee waxes disturbingly eloquent about a band called Grifter's Bone. The name sounds vaguely familiar, but Jon's hungrily drinking in the story. 

"I still dream about it," Lee says. "Before, I used to be able to go out, go to a concert, find some company." His eyes linger on Martin, bafflingly. "But now... That's not an option anymore."

"Statement ends," Jon says, after Lee is quiet for a few seconds. 

Lee looks appalled. "I'm terribly sorry," he says. "I don't know what came over me."

"It's him asking, it gets you spilling everything," Martin says. "Don't worry about it." He's honestly not sure what Lee is upset about, but he doesn't want to invalidate Lee's feelings. 

Lee mumbles goodbyes and moves to the other side of the campfire, huddling around himself. It sends a pang through Martin. 

He turns to see Jon looking at him, pensive. "What is it?"

Jon turns his eyes to Lee. "You know, you could if you wanted to."

Martin sighs. "I have no idea what you just said. Perhaps we should sleep." He tentatively holds up the gag.

Jon doesn't take it. "He wants to sleep with you," Jon says bluntly. "He all but said so."

"So?" Martin snaps, defensive. "You can't hold him responsible for what he said under compulsion. You definitely can't hold me responsible for things I didn't even say."

Jon shrugs. "Thought you might like to. I wouldn't mind." He sounds as casual as he ever does, when he's without the gag these days. Which isn't very. "But I wouldn't make you, either." 

"Thank goodness for that," Martin says, still off balance. "Now that you've had your snack, can we go to bed?"

Now Jon does take the gag from Martin and buckles it safely over his mouth. He follows Martin to their sleeping bags, as docile as a lamb.

~

It's still dark when Martin's eyes snap open. 

He's not sure what woke him. Jon is twitching and muttering in his sleep next to him, but Jon's usually like that. It doesn't wake Martin up anymore. 

The inside of his sleeping bag feels overheated. Martin squirms outside. 

It's a quiet night, or as quiet as they get nowadays. The eye in the sky stares down relentlessly. The area around it is the dull red of light pollution, even though they're in the countryside. There's very faint music in the distance, and Martin intentionally doesn't pay attention to whether it's bagpipes or calliope or human chanting. 

But their camp is sleeping people, a handful standing watch. Martin goes to make them tea for something to do. They accept with grunts and nods, no attempt to get friendly. Martin doesn't blame them. 

He's on his way back to his own sleeping bag when he sees someone twitch. He recognizes that wispy blond hair. 

Martin comes close, wary. It's rarely a good idea to forcibly wake up a victim of violent trauma. He hisses, "Lee!" from a short distance away. It doesn't work. Of course not. Martin has no choice but to be sat useless until Lee finally comes awake with a whimper. 

As soon as Lee's eyes (pale blue, Martin notes) open, Martin flinches. He shouldn't be here. After all Lee gave them in his generosity, the least Martin can give back is a measure of privacy. 

Lee's hazy eyes settle on him. "Martin," he says, voice rough. "Don't suppose you'd like to come here, would you?"

_It's the least I could do,_ plays through Martin's mind. He comes closer slowly, not wanting to startle Lee. He sinks to his knees on the ground next to Lee's sleeping bag and doesn't flinch when Lee all but launches himself at Martin. 

Martin's hands find Lee's shoulders without another thought. Bony, like he'd thought, like Jon is. It makes Martin want to pull him close, shield Lee from the world with his own bulk. 

It's a hug. That's all right, isn't it? Everyone hugs. Martin thinks that, keeps thinking that even as Lee angles him into a kiss. 

That, Martin isn't so sure about, but the raw need radiating from Lee is enough to make up his mind for him. 

Until Lee tears away and says, "Wait, sorry, aren't you and Jon....?"

Aren't they indeed. "Apparently it's an open relationship?"

Lee peers at him. "You don't sound too certain." 

Martin flails uselessly. Jon did say it was okay, but wouldn't it be just like Jon to say that, no matter how he felt? "I don't know." He sounds small and miserable to himself. 

Lee starts to move away, and Martin grabs him close instinctively. 

"I don't want to leave you alone," he says. When Lee stills and sags against him, he wraps his other arm around Lee as well. "Does this do any good at all?"

Quietly, Lee says, "It's good." He lays his head on Martin's chest.

Martin holds him until the eye above swivels, and faint pink light touches Lee's fair skin. 

~

They don't get much time to talk. Jon comes to fetch Martin almost at dawn, gesturing at the east, pointedly closing his eyes. Martin looks that way and sees the storm clouds gathering black, clustering around the eye above. 

It could just be rain, but it won't be. It never is anymore. 

Martin gets on with mobilizing their little camp. He passes on communications from Jon: there are hunt-creatures to the south and something that belongs to the buried to the southwest. In another life, Jon and Martin might have tried to make the huge hole in the ground or whatever it is swallow the hunt-creatures (whose presence Jon communicates by miming fangs). Now they help pack, and guard the edges of the group. 

They make it to higher ground unscathed. Jon raises up his hand and shakes his head. They stop here. Their group has undergone a rapid, unpleasant evolution where people who didn't listen to Jon ran into the things he warned against. The ones left listen. 

There's nothing to do now but get working on lunch. Their supplies are dwindling, and Martin suggests to Jon that the two of them go scavenging. 

The little town to the north has a Tesco where the CCTV cameras all turn to follow them when they enter and the shelves move when they don't look, but Jon says it's okay. They find tinned meat and potatoes, some apples that are still good, ibuprofen. Martin takes some chocolate for the children. Even at the end of the world, they should have something nice. 

It's an hour's walk back to the camp. Martin carries most of their findings in a gigantic backpack. He waits until they're properly on the road to say, "I kissed Lee last night."

Jon just nods at him, the way he does whenever Martin relates some interaction with another person. A sort of, _I don't much care either way, but it's important to you and I'm trying to be a good boyfriend,_ expression. 

"You... don't have anything to say about that?" Martin tries.

Jon shrugs. He raises his hands to form a heart symbol for a brief second, then lets them drop by his sides. 

What on Earth does that mean? Martin pauses to try and parse. "You... love me and want me to be happy?"

Jon nods, and rolls his eyes. He keeps walking, so Martin has to take a few big steps to catch up. 

"Alright," Martin says, forcefully, "but does that mean you're just... okay with that? You don't mind at all?"

This time, Jon stops walking. He fixes Martin with a glare, then rolls his eyes, then shrugs pointedly. Then, very quickly, he flashes the heart sign again.

"Okay," Martin says, dazed. "Okay." The rest of their trip to camp is silent.

~

Martin doesn't wake up that night, and the next one they're all up and running away from something horrible with too many fingers. The night after that, though, Martin finds himself awake in a quiet camp.

This time, he makes his way straight to where Lee's bedroll is, a little way outside of the ring of sleepers; not so far that the guards won’t notice if any monsters approach him, but far enough that the guards can turn a blind eye to adults enjoying one another’s company. Martin wonders whether Lee chose that spot thinking about him. 

Lee's clearly having another nightmare. Martin's heart aches. He sits and waits for Lee to wake up. 

When Lee opens his eyes, his posture softens a bit. Martin smiles tentatively.

"So," Lee says, and licks his lips. "Feeling more certain?"

Martin's face heats up. "Y-yeah. We talked about it. Um. If you still want--"

"I want," Lee says, in no uncertain terms. He draws Martin to him. Martin goes easily, letting himself be pushed to lie with his back on half of Lee's spread sleeping bag. 

For a while they just make out like teenagers. Lee likes long, deep kisses, likes fisting his hands in Martin's hair. Martin asks permission and, on receiving it, slides his hands under Lee's shirt.

"I'd rather you did what you liked without asking," Lee says, muffled in Martin's neck, sucking biting kisses into skin. "Don't touch my ears, I'll tell you if you do anything else I don't like."

"That works," Martin says, out of breath. He wriggles out of his shirt, shivering at the chilly air and at Lee's teeth on his collarbone. "For me, too."

Lee moves fast after that. He takes Martin's cock out, running appreciative fingers over its length, then lets out his own erection. Martin takes it in hand without thinking. Fuck, it's so satisfying, the girth of it solid in his hands. He starts squirming down so he can have it in his mouth. 

Lee stops him. "Can I fuck your thighs?"

Martin stops. "Course, yeah." He wriggles back up. 

Lee has a bit of lotion in his bag, and that does for lubrication. Martin lets Lee spoon up behind him, grope a bit at his arse. "God," Lee whispers, low and hectic. "Your arse is fantastic, if we had time..."

Martin whimpers agreement. In the meanwhile, he spreads his thighs to let Lee slick him up, then obligingly clenches them together. Lee's cock is a hot intrusion between his legs. 

Lee wraps his hand around Martin's cock. He has strong fingers, calloused but still lotion-smooth, and they're merciless in wringing pleasure out of Martin. 

As climax takes him over, Martin stuffs his fist in his mouth to keep from waking up everyone in camp. Lee is quiet except for a few soft, barely-there moans. 

At last, Lee shifts. "You'll want to go back to Jon." He's still gently cupping Martin's cock. 

"I could stay," Martin says. "I'd like to." 

They lie together quietly under the blinking stars. 

~

The next night, they're camping next to an abandoned farmhouse, with the enormous luxury of running water. A few of their group shower. Jon says they don't want to go in the bedrooms, but they draw lots to decide who gets the couches. The rest sleep outside. 

When most everyone is down, Jon turns to Martin and produces a toothbrush with a questioning look. Martin nods, picks up the necessary items from their bags, and they go inside.

Before undoing Jon's gag, Martin cuffs his hands behind his back. The cuffs are flimsy, lined with pink fur: they found them and the gag under the bed in one of the first houses they squatted in. It's a little silly to use them, honestly, since without the gag Jon would have no trouble telling Martin to take them off. But it eases Jon's mind, to have even the illusion of helplessness, so that's what they do. 

As Martin puts paste on the brush, Jon says, "I hope you had a nice time last night."

Martin refuses to blush. "I did." He wets the toothbrush in the running water. If they ever save the world, he swears he'll never take the luxuries of modern living for granted. 

"I wonder if you missed doing that." Jon's skating dangerously close to asking a question, here. He must really want to know, even if his voice is carefully neutral. 

Martin, caught by surprise, lets out a huff of laughter. "What? No. I don't need sex to be happy, I told you so." He rests his fingers against Jon's cheek. "Open up."

Jon obeys, but his gaze is intense, as if he could extract an explanation from Martin by looking hard enough.

It's not unlikely that he can, so Martin elaborates. "Yes, it's nice. I had a good time, and if you really don't mind, I might do that again. But it's not something I felt the lack of. Not really." He runs the brush carefully and thoroughly over the outside of Jon's bottom teeth, his other hand holding Jon gently by the chin. Jon's fine-boned face feels good in his hand. Right.

Jon narrows his eyes, but his mouth is wide open and waiting for Martin to take care of him in ways Jon doesn't trust himself with. 

"I'm not missing anything," Martin says softly. "I have everything I need right here. Anything else is just a bonus." He goes over the rest of Jon's mouth, quick and thorough. "Right." He puts down the brush, fills their cup with water and tilts it to Jon's lips, bracing the back of Jon's head with his other hand. "Now rinse."

They finish up without further discussion, Jon accepting the gag that Martin fits between his teeth. Before Martin can take the cuffs off, though, Jon stiffens. 

Martin lays a hand on Jon's wrist. "Do you want to keep them on for a bit?"

Jon frowns in concentration. In his cheeks and on his neck, his other eyes open briefly, then shut again. 

"We're safe?" Martin asks. Jon nods. The _For now_ is obvious, and doesn't need to be stated outright. "Alright." He sits on the edge of the dusty tub and pulls Jon to sit next to him. It's not terribly comfortable, but it'll do for a few minutes. He can tuck Jon against his side and rest his cheek over the top of Jon's head. It honestly mystifies Martin that Jon could have thought he needed more than this.


End file.
